My first ever fanfic! I've been lurking for a while though...Thiefshipping is my favourite pairing (blame Yu-Gi-Oh abridged for that!) so I decided to attempt it. I hope they're not too OOC...any and all feedback is very welcome! I'm not too sure on the rating system here so I've set it as a T to be safe...there's really nothing that bad though. It's from Marik's (not the Yami) point of view :) - Jem

I left the living room breathing hard, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut as I slowly counted to 10 in my head. How dare he. How dare he! I mean, he'd done worse to Odion and I, but Ishizu? He had never hit her before. And all she had been doing was trying to stick up for me, when all I'd done was get home from school ten minutes later than usual! He had no right to react like this!

Coming to a halt when I reached the kitchen, I slammed my fists into the counter, leaning forwards so my blonde hair swung into view. I took a few deep breaths, still attempting to calm my racing thoughts. How dare he...I couldn't get the sight of my sister's shocked, bruised face out of my head. She had backed away, mouth open and hand clasped to her cheek, before fleeing upstairs. Father had then turned his piggy eyes to me, leering over his grey beard."That should teach her not to disrespect me. A lesson you're already beginning to learn, I see." I had flinched away, back burning, before storming out of the room and into the kitchen, where I now leaned against the counter, revelling in the feeling of the hard plastic under my nails. I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory, unable to shake my sister's wide, frightened gaze from my mind. It just wasn't fair! He had no reason to lash out at her! And I...I had just stood there...

You know, if you let me, I could change that.

I hissed sharply, blood running cold. I knew that voice...

Yes, you know me. We should stop your Father.

I shook my head once, trying to ignore that sly whisper inside my head. "You aren't me..."

No. But I am a part of you.

"No...the things you think...you dream about...I never would..."

I just want to help.

That seemingly innocent sentence made my eyes widen, and the voice took advantage. Yes, I could help you...help you escape...An image flashed before my eyes – my sister and brother, smiling, welcoming me with open arms, taking my hands to lead me out into the sunlight, Father a broken and bloody bundle behind us on the floor...

This last picture snapped me back to reality. "No...That isn't the way. You want to hurt, not help."

The voice growled and would have continued, but was interrupted by a small sound by the back door. I whipped round, eyes straining to pierce the darkness of the back yard through the small grimy window. You couldn't really call it a garden – it was tiny and wild with neglect – but it was another small piece of home. And now, there was an unwelcome shadow disturbing the greenery as it ghosted past the window to the door.

The window I peered through was immediately to the left of our back door, so by glancing to my right I could watch as the shadow bent down beside the lock, and drew something out of its pocket. I hadn't turned the kitchen light on when I entered, and dusk was fast encroaching as I peered out into the darkness, trying to make out a face. I felt the wood of the window shelf piercing my skin as I dug my nails in, leaning forwards eagerly. A scratching sound came from the other side of the door as whoever it was leaned against the wood, pale fingers working away at something I couldn't see. I considered calling for Father, but was too intrigued by this stranger to for now. Besides, I'd have to sink very low before even considering asking for his help.

And you've always got me in the meantime, sniggered the unwelcome voice, but I shook my head impatiently, blonde bangs brushing ever-so-slightly against the grimy glass of the window.

It was enough.

The stranger outside whipped around to meet my gaze, nose suddenly pressed to the glass. My eyes widened and I took a step back, but before I could do anything the back door was open and he was in my face for real, hot breath on my cheek. I tried to run for the door but he placed a forceful hand on my shoulder and shoved me back into the counter. I opened my mouth – to do what I didn't know – but then felt something cold and sharp press against my neck. I sucked in a breath. There was a low chuckle in my ear, and then a chilling voice muttered, sending shivers down my spine and raising goosebumps along my bare arms.

"Well, well, well. I have caught a fair prize tonight."

I gulped, shutting my eyes before forcing them open to meet the gaze of the man currently in my face. His brown gaze burned into mine, but I didn't let myself look away. Who did he think he was, to just storm in and threaten me in my own home? My expression turned into a glare, but this only caused a corner of his mouth to pull up into a smirk. "Heh. I don't think you're in any position to be making threats, boy."

I hissed at his words. "I hardly think you're any better. This is my home, after all. And just who are you calling 'boy' anyway?"

He chuckled again, lowly, right into my ear. "Keep your voice down, boy, or I might have to get serious."

I opened my mouth to retort but something flashed in his eyes and he leaned closer, digging the cold metal deeper into my throat. "Careful how you go, now. We don't want this turning..." he licked his lips. "...messy."

I opted to keep my mouth shut and returned to glaring.

He smirked again. "Wise decision."

The door behind him, left ajar from his quick entrance, chose that moment to swing wide in a sudden gust of wind, colliding rather loudly with the wall opposite the one I was currently pinned against. The other cursed under his breath before dragging me forwards, pressing me into his chest before whipping me around and looping one arm around my neck – the arm holding the knife, I noticed with a wince. He pulled me back further towards him, growling "Make a sound and live to regret it" before reaching behind him to quietly swing the door shut with his free hand. I couldn't help my breath from hitching at the close contact, and he snorted softly, muttering "Don't get excited."

I rolled my eyes and shot back "As if!", causing him to tighten his stranglehold on my neck.

"Not another word out of..." A crash from the living room interrupted him and we both froze. My Father's voice cut into the silence. "Marik? What are you doing in there?"

The body behind me pressed me closer, the blade digging into my neck hard; I felt a trickle of blood. His other hand covered my mouth to muffle my gasp as he breathed instructions into my ear. "Not a word about me. Make him go away." The hand covering my mouth was quickly removed in favour of encircling my waist, tightening his grip.

I cleared my throat before replying, pleased with how normal my voice sounded. "Nothing, Father. Just killing time."

A grunt sounded down the hallway. "Well, go do that in your room. I want peace and quiet."

"Of course, Father," I replied meekly, before adding under my breath "that is, if someone would be kind enough to let me go."

There was a pause, then another dark chuckle. "Well, you've got guts boy, I'll give you that."

I rolled my eyes again. "Think you could let me go now? It's getting a little hard to breathe."

The hands tightened momentarily before letting me go, but before I could move he had grabbed the back of my short purple hoody in one fist, and I felt cold metal graze my back. "Lead the way, then. And not a word until we're in your room. I trust no one will see us."

I didn't reply, just started walking, ever aware of the cold metal pressing into my lower back. I hurried past the living room door and rushed up the stairs, hearing no sound behind me. Clearly this person was used to sneaking around. At the top of the stairs I turned left and opened the door to my room, feeling myself pushed forwards and the door slammed and locked behind me. I stepped across the room and whirled round to face my assailant. His face was still hidden in the shadows of my room; darkness had fallen completely now. I furrowed my brow. "Not going to turn the lights on, then? Am I not allowed to see your face?"

Silence. Then – "Close the curtains first."

I heaved a sigh, folding my arms. "And how do I know you won't just kill me if I do?"

A low growl. "Doesn't matter. Do it anyway."

I remained where I was, glowering. I could feel his gaze burning into mine through the darkness. Well, like hell was I giving in first.

The seconds ticked by agonisingly slowly before he hissed quietly, muttering "Just close the bloody curtains. If I was going to kill you I would have done it by now, boy."

His mocking tone got my back up but I closed the curtains anyway, turning back to face him when I was done. After all, I wanted to see his face. Now why would I want that...?

He chuckled again. "Good boy. Now here's your reward." He flipped the light switch and I blinked in the sudden glare. A second later, my gaze was locked back on him. White hair framed a pale face with harsh features, the most obvious being those brown eyes currently sending me a death glare. I dropped my gaze to take in the rest of him – blue and white striped tee-shirt covered with a long black coat and tight black trousers. I couldn't help thinking the look suited him, making his pale face seem to almost glow. There was no denying he was handsome.

Worse still, I recognised him. I couldn't help gasping "Ryou?" My eyes narrowed. "No, you're not Ryou...at least, you don't have his voice, and your hair's far too messy..."

He raised his eyebrows at that, his voice mocking. "Seriously? I'm a complete stranger standing in your room with a knife, and you're commenting on my hair?"

I flushed slightly. "Well, sor-ry! You just look like a kid in my class..."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Ryou. That would be because I am him. Well, this is, anyway." He gestured to himself.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Come again?" This stranger may have looked uncannily like him, but there was no way he was the quiet, shy British boy in my class.

The stranger laughed. "It doesn't matter. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

I felt my temper flare again. "No arguments there. Why don't we start with who the hell you think you are, walking into my house and making threats like you own the place?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and in a flash he had me pinned to wall next to the now-curtained window, knife once again pressed to my throat. "I really don't think you're in a position to talk to your master like that."

I scowled. "Master? Who made you my..." I froze as the knife dug in, drawing blood for the second time. His eyes gleamed as he leered at me. "Not another word out of you."

I matched his gaze, refusing to look away. I had a few centimetres on him in height, but I could feel muscles in his arms, and the way he held himself hinted towards tactical fighting. There was also the small matter of the knife pressed to my throat. All things considered, I snapped my mouth shut and lowered my gaze. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right – I really was in no position to argue.

He snorted softly. "There's a good boy. Now, listen to me – this is what we're going to do. Once your family is out of the way, you are going to help me find certain...objects that your family is hiding. Once you have shown them to me, I am going to take them and be on my way. And you are going to keep your mouth shut, because if you don't, I'll come back and kill you." His voice took on a threatening note. "Are we clear?"

I narrowed my eyes. Who the hell did this guy think he was, that he could just storm in and demand these things of me? And then threaten to kill me on top of that? As if I'd ever let him!

As if we ever would...

I shook my head violently, forgetting my current situation. "No..." I breathed. "No, shut up..." Visions flashed before my eyes, gory sights of a white-haired corpse, mutilated beyond recognition.

I won't let him hurt us...

I grabbed my head with both hands, one arm brushing the knife, squeezing my eyes shut. "No, I won't let you...get lost..."

"Excuse me?" hissed a low and dangerous voice.

My eyes snapped open, and I met a very pissed-off brown glare. I swallowed, throat rasping. "Um..."

Won't let him hurt us.

I lowered my gaze but managed to stay silent this time, biting my inner cheek.

It would be so easy...

More images, of grabbing the knife from this arrogant teen's hand, of turning the tables and pinning him against the wall, threatening him, mutilating him...

We would have control. Just let me out...I just want to help...

Cold fingers on my chin brought me back to my current predicament. Brown eyes seared into my own violet gaze as he lifted my face to meet his. I could feel his burning eyes sear my very soul.

"Well, well, well..." he breathed. "It seems I've found another Yami..."

I furrowed my brows. "Wh-what?" I scowled at the stutter.

He raised a brow, not releasing my chin. "Hmm. Are you not aware of him?"

Thoroughly confused, I mouthed "Who?"

He laughed slightly. "Bloody hell, boy, you really are an innocent. Are you not even aware of what goes on within your own body?"

I glowered at him. "Explain yourself. And who the hell are you calling 'boy' anyway? You're hardly older than me, and though you have the advantage here it's only cause you've got the knife. If our situations were reversed I'd have kicked your ass long ago."

He raised his eyebrows at that. "How so?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

He sighed, frustrated. "Just how exactly would things be different if you had the knife? I hardly think you know how to use it, boy."

I growled slightly at that. True, I had never used one before, but...

But I know how. Just let me teach you...More images rushed through my mind, but I pushed the gory things away. I'm only trying to protect you, Marik. To make you happy. We could do away with this fool so easily...and it would be so much fun...Another image, of me with my eyes widened in ecstasy, lips pulled back as I plunged the knife repeatedly into the white haired teen...

I gasped softly. "No. I don't want that...I don't want to hurt him..."

A chuckle before me. "Congratulations, Marik Ishtar, you have a Yami. Who would have thought it?"

The chilling voice, warmed slightly with mocking humour, once again brought me back to the present. It was time for some answers...

"All right, whoever you are, you've got some explaining to do." I pushed away from the wall and brushed past him before spinning back to face him again, hand on my hip. "Just what exactly are you saying? What the hell is a 'Yami'? And how exactly do you know my name? And, most importantly," I took a deep breath. "Just what exactly does any of this have to do with you?"

He watched me calmly, arms folded, the gleam of the knife still just visible in one hand. "I have no reason to answer your questions. However," he lifted a finger to forestall my arguments. "Because of your...situation...it would perhaps be wise to give you a little background information."

"Background information on what exactly? And just what is my 'situation'? And how come..."

A hand was pressed to my mouth. Brown eyes glared at me. "Would you just shut up for five minutes? Let me explain..."

I said nothing, just glared right back at him. He rolled his eyes but removed his hand, stepping back. "Frankly, this inconveniences me greatly. I can't have another Yami running around causing trouble – that is strictly my job. And yes, before you say anything, I am going to explain." He took a breath before seating himself on my bed, facing me. I folded my arms and continued my death stare.

He smirked. "You know, if the wind changes, you'll be stuck like that forever."

I refused to react. "Just get to the point."

"Fine. You commented, when you first saw my appearance (and I saw you checking me out, by the way), that I bear quite a resemblance to your classmate Ryou. There is a reason for that – I am his Yami, also known as the King of Thieves, Spirit of the Millennium Ring, or simply by my name – Bakura." My eyes widened slightly at the mention of a Millennium Item, but he continued, his eyes looking vaguely into the distance. "As a Yami – or darkness – I am a spirit who controls a host body in order to operate in the modern world. Ryou has the misfortune to be my host at this time. This means that his soul consists of two rooms – one for him, and one for me. It would appear" - at this, his gaze flickered to me - "that you are in a similar situation. I see the look in your eyes, and the way you talk to yourself as if you're a different person. You are clearly far too weak to be a fellow Yami, hence my conclusion – you are another host unfortunate enough to be carrying an evil spirit. Congratulations are in order." His last sentence dripped sarcasm as he regarded me coolly.

I stood stock still for a moment, taking in everything he had just said. He's mad, was my first thought. Then – hell, I hear voices. If he's mad then so am I...Eventually pulling enough of my senses together to form a coherent sentence, I managed an indignant "Hey, who are you calling weak?"

The dark spirit – Bakura – leaned back on my bed and chuckled softly. "That's really all you've got to say? Not that it matters – you know I'm right. You've clearly been hearing voices. Has he ever taken full possession though? Or she, for that matter," he added, eyeing me appraisingly.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"That you are very effeminate." He smiled sweetly.

"You're one to talk! And to answer your question, there was one time..."

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath. "Four years ago...when I was twelve...he..."

No, don't tell him. He doesn't need to know. What right does he have to know? Sticking his nose in our personal business...

I scrunched up my face. The voice – my Yami apparently – was right. "It's no business of yours," I said haughtily. "Just what are you doing in my house?"

Bakura's eyes flashed dangerously. "Very well, Ishtar. To business then. Your family guards something of mine – two things, to be precise. I want them back."

I raised my eyebrows. "And I should believe you because...?"

He was up and in my face in a matter of seconds, knife flashing. His breath ghosted on my cheek as he said "Because I know your family guards the Rod and the Necklace in preparation for the great Pharaoh's return." His lips twisted into a sneer.

I took a hesitant step backwards. "How...?"

He laughed evilly into my ear. "Oh, yes, I know all about your great family tradition. Took me long enough to work it out and find you, but now I'm here, and I'll be damned if some arrogant boy is going to get in my way."

I hissed and recoiled at his words. "What right have you to come in here demanding such things? You're too late anyway; we left Egypt for a reason. There is no Pharaoh, and no..." I stopped suddenly, eyes widening in realisation. "No..." It couldn't be...

The teen in front of me scowled, leaning dangerously close to my face. "No what?"

My mind was racing, this spirit's earlier words echoing in my ears: I am his Yami, also known as the King of Thieves...It was impossible. None of that stuff was real. There was no way...

The pale teen prodded me impatiently in the chest. "No what, mortal?"

My glazed eyes rose hesitantly to meet his. "No Thief King...no Spirit of the Ring...no Bakura..."

We regarded each other silently. The moment stretched into hours.

The Thief King laughed. "Well. I see that my reputation precedes me."

We both sat cross legged on the bed, eyes boring into each other. My back was to the headboard, my body tense as my hands clasped and unclasped in my lap. Bakura, on the other hand, was the picture of ease, leaning back confidently in his long black coat, knife still very visible in his right hand.

I was thinking back to my childhood in Egypt, going over everything I'd been forced to learn, remembering hours of studying ancient scriptures. Once we got out I had dismissed it all as mythological nonsense – including both the Pharaoh and the Thief King. But now, the latter was supposedly sat on my bed, regarding me with a rather superior expression.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Am I expected to believe you, Bakura? You could be anyone, just trying to get their hands on some gold."

He snorted softly. "Believe me, boy, there are easier ways to get gold. Ways that don't involve being interrogated by arrogant teenage boys who don't get out enough."

My eyes flashed at the insult, but Bakura just smirked. I glowered back. "Alright. If you even are the supposed spirit of the Thief King, then you should know that the Items aren't yours. They belong to the Pharaoh, who will use them to end all Shadow Games and save the world." I can't help but snort at myself. I sound like something out of a bad fantasy novel. This can't possibly be true...

Bakura raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? And you know this how exactly?"

"Because the ancient scriptures passed down through my family tell of the battle between good and evil – the Pharaoh who saved the world by locking the shadow magic away in the Items, and how he used them to defeat the evil Thief King and will one day return to use them once more." Still sounding like a bad fantasy fiction...

Bakura snorted softly. "You might want to watch your words a little more. I will only be insulted for so long..."

I sniffed haughtily. "What you gonna do about it?"

He flashed a feral grin. "Well, I do have a knife, after all."

I grimaced slightly, leaning back, and he laughed. "Good boy. And all that twaddle you just spouted is perfectly becoming of a good little tomb keeper. I should have expected nothing better from you."

My temper flared at that, and I hissed dangerously. "Watch your words, thief. I am not a tomb keeper. I refuse to be bound by some ridiculous rules laid down by a Pharaoh responsible for all my pain and suffering."

Bakura cocked an eyebrow. "How so, boy?"

"Stop calling me boy! All the Pharaoh has ever done is bring me pain and suffering! All that nonsense in those scriptures, about how his spirit will return – it's never going to happen! My family spent generations locked undergrounding, guarding some worthless old trinkets and reading ridiculous texts about some fairytale story which probably never happened anyway, going through unspeakable torture and torment..."

A knock at the door silenced me mid-rant, and we both froze. Bakura growled softly at me. "Remember, not a word..."

"Marik?" I recognised Odion's voice and breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't Father. "Marik, are you all right? It sounds like you're talking to someone..."

"Oh, no, Odion." I forced myself to laugh. "It's just the radio."

"Ah, I see." I could hear his disbelieving tone. "Then why is your door locked?"

Crap. I'd forgotten Bakura had done that. "Um...no real reason. I just wanted some privacy, is all."

"Right. Of course." The disbelief was certainly there now. When he spoke again, I could hear the smile in his voice. "Just let her out when you're done, right? Don't want Father catching you."

My jaw dropped. "Wh-what? Her?"

"Or him, whatever floats your boat." I heard him chuckle softly. "You know, I always had my suspicions about you, brother, but in that case definitely get him out when you're done. You know Father's opinion on that sort of thing."

I could only sit in stunned silence, my cheeks burning as I resolutely stared at the floor, ignoring the guffawing spirit next to me.

"You don't have to say anything, brother. I understand. Goodnight, Marik, and...Marik's friend. Enjoy yourselves."

I refused to look up as I heard his footsteps fade across the landing. Only when his door shut did I dare to raise my eyes slightly, meeting Bakura's mirth-filled gaze. He opened his mouth. "Well. That was...informative."

I quickly returned to glaring at the floor, cheeks burning. "Sh-shut up!"

"Aw, is poor little Marik having problems with denial? It's ok, sounds like your brother's always had 'suspicions', so when you finally grow up enough to come out to him it won't be...hey!" The spirit dodged the pillow I'd just chucked at him, eyes flashing.

I glared right back. "Shut up! I'm not gay! Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh really," he hissed, leaning closer." "I might just make it my business, Ishtar." His hair brushed my shoulder, breath hot against my cheek, and I couldn't stop an involuntary shiver from running down my spine. He chuckled darkly, lips close to my ear, nose brushing my skin. My breath hitched despite myself, and I could feel my cheeks reddening. Damn hormones...why does he have to get so close?

The spirit pulled back, smirking, and I felt a small pang of...loss? "Not gay, my ass."

I glared back. "None of your business."

"...Yet."

I rolled my eyes. "Never your business."

"We'll see." Bakura flashed me a sudden dazzling smile, and my heart fluttered. Why did it do that...? What am I feeling now?

"Anyway, back to our previous conversation," Bakura continued smoothly, all traces of that brilliant smile gone, replaced with his usual smirk. "It appears your feelings for the Pharaoh somewhat echo my own. However, your ignorance is, frankly, astounding for one with such acute knowledge of the ancient ways."

I could feel my hackles rising. "What..."

He raised his hand. "No. Let me speak. You see, boy, there was indeed a shadow game between the nameless Pharaoh and myself, and it is nearing the time where once again we will battle it out. And it is time for the Ishtars to choose a side." He steepled his fingers and gazed at me over the tips of them, suddenly seeming older than his years. "You see, I am indeed Thief King Bakura, or at least his spirit, and I did indeed battle the nameless Pharaoh five thousand years ago in Ancient Egypt. I have good reason to despise him, and so, it would seem, do you." His sharp gaze seemed to pierce my soul again, and my back burned. I suppressed a shudder. "Now the time is coming for us to do battle again," the spirit continued. "The Millennium Puzzle is completed, and lies around the neck of Yugi Moto – the Pharaoh's reincarnation, just as Ryou is mine. It is my task to collect the rest of the Items, for this time I will not let him win." A new determination lit his eyes, and for a moment I saw a deep, intense hatred, stronger and more ancient than anything I had ever seen before. This spirit truly sought revenge on the Pharaoh, something I identified with, but...revenge for what?

I peered quizzically into his eyes as the silence stretched on, his gaze too faraway to focus on me, locked somewhere in the ancient past.

"Bakura," I breathed hesitantly, and his eyes snapped back to mine, narrowing slightly. "...what did he do to you?"

There was no reply as he continued to stare at me. "And why, pray tell, is that any business of yours?"

"Because I hate him too. And if you have cause to...then maybe..." I met his cool gaze, my own eyes fiery. "...maybe I could help you after all."

The spirit's eyes widened slightly, but he made no reply, just continued to stare. I looked back, and slowly felt my defences crumbling as he once again seared my very soul. I could feel all my hatred and anger towards the Pharaoh who had made my life hell rise to the surface, clouding my gaze and filling my mind with hazy hatred.

Yes, we hate him...I could hurt him if you let me...

The images returned with renewed vigour, but I squeezed them out. "No. I will never let you out. Not again..."

But we could stop him. Stop them all. The Pharaoh, your Father, this so-called spirit who challenges you in your own home...we could be free of them all...just let me out.

"No." I felt a cool hand on my arm and returned, gasping, to Bakura. He looked at me with something akin to curiosity, but also a hint of...understanding?

He blinked, once. "I think maybe you should tell me your story."

I leaned back, arms folded. "I asked first. You tell first."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his face remained stoical. "You first. I still have the knife, remember."

I rolled my eyes, but looked down, my hands fisting in my lap. "I suppose...if you truly want to know..."

"I do."

My eyes flashed up to meet his before dropping again. I began tracing patterns on the mattress, and took a shaky breath. "I guess this all started back home, in Egypt...

"I was born underground in a tomb. My birth was bittersweet. Father was thrilled he finally had an heir – Odion's adopted – but my birth also took away my mother's life. I don't remember her at all. Odion, Ishizu and I were raised by Father, if you can call what he did raising, anyway. He has a heavy hand. As the male heir to the Ishtar line, I was schooled in Ancient Egyptian, forced to study the ancient scriptures and never allowed above ground. If I ever spoke of wanting more, I was whipped and told that the Pharaoh would never allow it, that I had a duty to await his return, and keep taking care of the Millennium Rod and Necklace to give to him, along with the key to his memories. I was also taught to guard against the return of a certain Thief King." I couldn't resist a small chuckle here, and Bakura just smirked right back, meeting my gaze. I drew another breath before continuing.

"I hated it. Growing up underground, daylight seemed like a dream to me. I remember begging Odion and Ishizu to tell me stories of when they went to the markets – they were allowed out, it was only me who was doomed to live underground my whole life. Their stories would make me laugh, then cry – the idea of all those riches that would forever be out of my reach was too much for me to bear. Even then, the seed of hatred was planted in me. Who was this Pharaoh, to think he could keep me trapped in a tomb whilst all the other children got to play outside? I was growing wild.

"And then...then I turned ten. And for an Ishtar heir, turning ten means one thing – the initiation. I would become a full tomb keeper, and forever be trapped underground. I begged Father to set me free – it wasn't like the Pharaoh was coming back, what was the point of my suffering? I was so scared, Odion even offered to undergo it for me – he was already sixteen, and he had promised mother he would protect me. He thought he would bear the pain better than me. Father whipped him for even suggesting it. So, on my tenth birthday, I was...I was brought into the ceremonial chamber and...and tied face down to the table. And Father...Father took up the Millennium Rod...and...he...he..." my breath hitched and my eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the memory. "Don't make me go back there..."

A cool touch on my wrist. I looked up, surprised, and met Bakura's calming gaze. "It's alright, Marik. It's just a memory. Take your time."

Still breathing heavily, I nodded once before dropping my gaze. "Father...he used the Millennium Rod's blade to inscribe the secret of the Pharaoh onto my back." I paused and allowed the silence to weigh heavily for a moment. My back tingled almost unbearably and I shifted slightly. I felt Bakura's grip tighten around my wrist, and I found the strength to continue, feeling his cool gaze on my face without looking up. "The scars took weeks to heal. After that...I was different. Lonely, separate. Odion and Ishizu no longer related to me – I got angry and shouted at them. I turned away the only people who had ever been close to me, and it was all the Pharaoh's fault. I have to be burdened with his stupid secret for the rest of my life. It was then that I started to hear him – the other me, the one that wants to hurt everything. Back then, I was just glad to have someone to talk to. But I wasn't completely lost to my family yet.

"It was some time after my twelfth birthday that Ishizu offered to take me to the surface. I so desperately wanted to see the sun at least once in my life. We slipped out one day, only for an hour, and Odion promised to cover for us so Father wouldn't know. That was the best – and worst – day of my life. I'll never forget the first time I saw the sun, or when I saw a comic book, a motorcycle on the TV. And the people! There were so many of them...I didn't even realise so many people could exist in one place. I didn't want to return after the hour, but Ishizu was insistent, and the scars on my back were reminder enough of how much I didn't fit in above ground. So we returned to the tomb. But when we got there...Father had found out. He had whipped Odion unconscious. Ishizu screamed, but I...I just froze. And that other me started talking – he said he would protect me from Father. And I let him. My body was moving without me – speaking in a voice that wasn't mine. It called Father a fraud, said the Pharaoh was never coming back, and we were living a lie. Father went to whip me, but my body caught the whip and tugged it out of his grasp. Then...I...I watched as I picked up the Rod, and it felt so right. I uncovered the blade and advanced towards my Father – but Ishizu stepped in front of me and screamed at me to think. Her scream woke me up, and everything shifted, and then the voice was gone, and I was back in control. I dropped the Rod, and my Father took it back. We were whipped, of course, but when we woke up we were out of the tomb and on our way here. I was too relieved to be out in the sun again to ask questions, but later I discovered that something the other me had said had resided with my Father – the Pharaoh was never coming back. We were wasting our lives. So we left. Father is now a man without a purpose – his only comfort is controlling me and my siblings. He kept the Rod and the Necklace, though – I never really understood why. Probably thought he could sell them on, but never found a buyer. They're useless anyway – just worthless bits of gold. The Pharaoh is a fairytale, and I hate him anyway. After what he did to my family -" I choked, and felt the cold tracks of tears marking my cheeks. How long have I been crying...?

You should have let me out that day. Then we could have been free of them all.

I gasped, and shut my eyes quickly. Images of my broken and bleeding family flashed before my eyes.

They all deserve to suffer, for what they did to you...

"No!" I put my hands over my ears. "I won't listen to you..."

We could stop them all. We could still be free...

"No!" I shrieked, new tears mingling with the old on my cheeks. "I just want you to be quiet, stop talking, leave me alone..."

But how can I? I AM you.

"Shutupshutupshutupshutupshut up...!"

Hands tugging on my shoulders, spinning me around. Cool arms encircling my torso, pulling me backwards. A chest pressed against my burning back. Breath in my ear – "It's alright Marik, I understand. But that's all in the past. You're safe now. You're not alone anymore."

I could hear loud gasps that seemed to be coming from my own mouth. All my muscles were tensed unbearably as I latched on to Bakura's voice, hoping to block out the other.

"Don't worry Marik, it's over now. You're alright, you're safe. I'm here, you're not alone."

"Not...alone" I repeated, and slowly felt myself relax. I leaned back into Bakura, this man I had only known a few hours, and felt myself begin to let go of my past for the first time. My eyes slid shut, and I slowly lowered my hands from where they'd been gripping my hair, fingertips brushing his arms. We stayed that way for a few minutes whilst I got my breath back under control. As I came back to the present, I also became aware of just how close I was to the Thief King. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his breath brushing past my cheek, his arms around my torso. Heat rose to my face once more, cheeks burning, and I couldn't help my heartbeat increasing, my breath hitching slightly.

Slowly – reluctantly? – I pulled out of his embrace, turning to face him once more, forcing myself to meet his gaze. No one outside my family knew my story, and not even they know everything. I would not let this spirit think that I am weak.

Bakura met my gaze calmly, but I could still see that ancient hatred burning in the depths of him. "Well, Marik, it seems that you were right. We do both have good reason to hate the Pharaoh."

I nodded slightly. "Well, you know my story. It's only fair that I get to hear yours now."

He blinked, and dropped his gaze. "I...suppose. Yes, it would be fair, wouldn't it?" The corner of his mouth pulled up into the now-familiar smirk, and he looked back to me. "Well, it isn't a pleasant story, so I'll keep it short. I was born five thousand years ago, in the Ancient Egyptian village of Kul Elna. We were a village of thieves and criminals. One day, the Pharaoh decided to create the Millennium Items, but in order to do so he needed ninety-nine sacrifices. Human sacrifices. He decided my village would suffice. I was six when the soldiers came." He continued to stare at me, but now it was like he was looking right through me, and into the distant past. "Afterwards, I was left to fend for myself. I thieved my way through life, and swore vengeance on the man who had taken everything from me. Came bloody close, too..." He blinked. "When I was close to death, I bound my soul to the Millennium Ring. Since then I have been passed from host to host, awaiting the return of the Pharaoh. Now, I reside within Ryou, and the Pharaoh is with Yugi, I can feel it. I must collect all the Items in order to exact my revenge, so the spirits of my village can finally rest in peace. My search lead me to the Rod and the Necklace, which lead me to the Ishtars, which lead me to this house, where I was happily breaking in until a certain teenage boy decided to interrupt."

I pouted at this. "Hey! You were the one who pounced on me!"

"Yes, because you were staring. And don't try and tell me you wouldn't have attempted to stop me."

"Not if you were going to attack Father, I wouldn't." My words surprised even me, as shown in my widened eyes.

Bakura chuckled. "Foolish boy."

"Will you stop calling me that already? You're the same age as me! Or at least...Ryou is..."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Ryou is. I am over five thousand years old. You're point?"

I bit my lip. "Um...nothing, I guess...so what now?"

Bakura blinked at this sudden change of topic, then leaned back confidently, taking up more space on MY bed. "Now, my little Egyptian, I am going to steal your Millennium Items. And then I might go ahead and steal you right along with them."

I blinked, and my jaw fell open in shock.

He chuckled. "Oh, come now, you didn't seriously think I could let you go, knowing what you do about my past and my plans? Besides, we have unfinished business..." he leaned forwards, pressing his forehead to mine. His sudden closeness, coupled with his seductive voice, was too much for me. I let out a rather embarrassing squeak, my heart racing.

He chuckled, leaning back again and granting me a rare smile. "Oh dear Marik. We're going to have to work on that. And you say you're not gay?"

I flushed darkly through my tan skin. "Sh-shut up! I'm not!"

"Then why the blush? Why the stutter?"

My skin darkened even more. I must have looked ridiculous. "It's nothing! Y-you just took me by surprise, is all."

He smirked at me. "Quite."

I looked away, knowing I would crumble under that gaze if I held it a moment longer. He laughed brightly. "So, back to business. Where is it your family keeps the Rod and Necklace now?"

I dared a peek back at him, a smirk residing on my own features now. "Oh, I can do much better than that, thief."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

I leaned back on my palms, deciding to have some fun of my own. "Well now, I can't very well just let you come in here dominating everything and taking all you want from me, now can I?"

His expression became dangerous. "Don't push your luck, Ishtar. I still have the knife, remember."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, and I have information you need, assuming you'd even have used that knife in the first place."

He gave a feral grin, exposing sharp canines. "Care for a demonstration?"

Before I could reply he was suddenly on top of me, left hand pushing me down to keep me still, right hand holding the sharp metal very close to my throat. "You may be pretty, Ishtar, but I am a dangerous thief. Just because we share a common enemy, don't expect me to go easy on you."

Surprisingly, I found that I wasn't scared. This spirit had held me, comforted me, when I told of the horrors of my past. And then he had recounted his own horrific history without batting an eyelid, something I got the feeling he wouldn't tell just anyone. I felt the beginnings of something flutter in my stomach – a new emotion that I couldn't name – and I realised that I wanted to help this spirit. Not because I pitied him – I was probably more broken than he – but because within him I felt a soul kindred to my own.

And besides, I couldn't let him have all the fun.

I felt a grin tug at the corners of my mouth. "Well, spirit, if that's really the best you can do..." I suddenly grabbed his wrists, pushed him off me and rolled so that I was hovering above him, the knife slipping from his grasp to roll harmlessly into the pillows. A shocked expression hovered around his features for a moment, before settling back into a glare that he aimed directly at me. I giggled.

He rolled his eyes. "Very manly, Marik."

"Hey!" I punched him lightly on the shoulder, momentarily freeing one of his wrists. "Watch it – OH!" I ended with a surprised exclamation as he flipped us again, an impish grin lighting his features.

"Nice try Marik, but I don't succumb that easily."

I mock growled at him. "Well, neither do I."

He made a small noise at the back of his throat. "I'll have to see what I can do to change that."

"I'd like to see you try – hmmph!" I was cut short suddenly as his lips pressed against mine. Shocked, my body stiffened, adjusting to this new situation, when it was over and he rolled off me, sitting up as if nothing had happened.

"You still haven't told me what else you know about the Millennium Items."

I stared dazedly at the ceiling for a few moments, recollecting my scattered thoughts, before returning to myself and sitting up. "Um...yeah...well they're all in the museum where Father works, except for the Ring and the Puzzle..."

Bakura nodded. "Yugi has the Puzzle, and as for the Ring..." he grinned wickedly and pulled at a cord around his neck. From under his clothes came a golden circular object, with five golden points clinking together slightly as Bakura leaned forwards. "However, the information that the others are together certainly makes my job easier."

I frowned, still slightly dazed. That had been my first kiss, after all. What Bakura had said was only just beginning to register. "...Huh? Wait...did I just tell you where the Items are?" I looked over to see him smirking at me, eyes sparkling. "You asshole! That's cheating!"

He laughed. "I'll admit, I didn't think it would be that easy."

I growled at him, making a split-second decision. I'd show him easy. Lunging across the bed, I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. I heard a surprised gasp and pulled away, flushed. I was pleased to see that his cheeks were a little pink, too.

I was less pleased by the renewed glint in his eyes, and the slow spreading of his lips into a grin.

I had about three seconds before he attacked me, lips exploring not just my mouth but also my face and neck as he pushed me back onto the bed. I gasped at the sudden onslaught, and felt his chuckle vibrate through my skin. He let up after a long moment, and hovered just above me. "So...about this museum..."

Managing to keep my wits about me this time, I sat up, pushing him away. "Ha! I won't tell you that easily."

His brow furrowed before he pulled out his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows, widening his eyes in the process – the picture of innocence, if not for that glint in his brown gaze. "B-but Marik, if we want to destroy the Pharaoh..."

"'But Marik' nothing!" I laughed, though I couldn't deny the thrill that went through me at the sound of that 'we'. "And don't try to pull off innocent. You aren't Ryou, after all."

He smirked, all semblance of his host falling away. "You're right. I'm not. How perceptive of you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No. You want my help, you have to take me with you."

At this, his grin widened. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Marik my dear." I blushed and looked down, hearing a small laugh. "Oh, I love to make you do that."

I glanced back at him quickly. "Do what?"

"Blush. You look adorable."

This, of course, made me flush even darker. "Well, you're one to talk! I saw your pink cheeks earlier!"

He shrugged, eyes dancing. "It's this body. Against my own you'd have stood no chance."

I raised my eyebrows. "Is that so? What did you look like?"

He smiled slightly, a faraway look in his eyes. "I was tan – even darker than you..."

"Impossible!"

"...and I had a scar under my right eye." He gestured to his face. "My eyes were a sort of light purple, my hair was shorter but still white, and I had a lot more muscle. I also would have been taller than you." He shot me a grin. "You wouldn't have stood a chance."

I tilted my head, trying to picture it. He looked right back, and for a moment I could almost see it...the great Thief King written about in the scriptures...

And then he leaned forwards to press his lips to mine, and it was the same pale skin and long fluffy hair in front of me. I kissed back, and ran my fingers through his white locks. His hands snaked around my waist, holding me steady. He drew back slightly. "You've gotten good at that," he grinned wickedly.

"You already were good," I replied, snuggling my head into his chest. He wrapped his arms tighter, and I felt rather than heard his laughter.

"Yes I was Marik, yes I was. Now, you need to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow, after all."

I smiled, snuggling closer. "Guess you're right."

I could almost hear his eyes rolling. "You can't fall asleep on me, Marik."

I grinned. "Watch me."

He grasped my shoulders, pulling me back, and I mewled slightly. He smirked. "Still say you're not gay?"

I bit my lip. "I'm...reconsidering..."

He chuckled. "Of course you are." He pushed me down flat. "Go to bed. You need to sleep." When he made to get up, I grabbed his wrist.

"Stay with me? I mean...unless Ryou's parents will miss him..."

Bakura scoffed. "Not likely. His dad's dead and his mum's away working. Why do you think I still steal? Someone needs to feed him."

My eyes widened. "I...had no idea..."

"No one does." He pulled his wrist away from my grasp and rescued his knife from the pillows, pocketing it. He stepped away from the bed but I reached up and grabbed his arm. "Stay with me? Please?"

He looked back and smiled softly. "If you think I'm letting you out of my sight for a moment, you're sorely mistaken." My heart soared. "After all, who else is going to help me steal the Items?"

I bit my lip and let him go, looking down. "Well...if that's the only reason..."

I heard a frustrated sigh, and then arms encircled my shoulders. "No, Marik. You know full well that is not the only reason."

I smiled tentatively up at him, but he rolled his eyes and stepped away. "Get changed. It's late and you need to sleep."

I shrugged and removed my purple hoody, stretching. Feeling eyes on me, I turned. "What?"

He didn't reply. "Bakura?"

His brow furrowed, and he motioned me forwards. Confused, I walked up to him. He put his hands on my shoulders – my skin prickled at the contact – and whirled me round.

Oh. Right. My scars.

Lightly, feather-light, so I could barely feel it, one of his fingers traced the hieroglyphs tattooed on my back. "The key to the Pharaoh's memories..." I heard him mutter. "And now he's mine..."

I shivered at those words, and smiled at their implication. The spirit let me go, pushing me forwards. "To bed with you. You mortals need sleep."

I grinned impishly at him. "You coming?"

He rolled his eyes but slipped off his jacket and top anyway, sliding in next to me. My bed was only small, so he drew me close, one arm around my shoulders. I rested my head on his chest, just above his heart, and let its steady beat send me off to sleep. And I smiled, because I knew that just as surely as I am his, this spirit is mine, too. We belong to each other now.

Eep...it's over? I'm really not sure how to describe this...I think I'm happy with it? I have some vague ideas of places I could go with it, if it's worth continuing or not. Any feedback at all is welcomed with open arms! Hope you enjoyed reading! - Jem